Oh Plot Bunny! Files #3: Chameleon
by rainjewel
Summary: Trowa has infiltrated the OZ base, and Lady Une takes a liking to him in the worst way. ANGST!


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Oh Plot Bunny! Files #3: Chameleon

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Disclaimer: *Sighs* Of course I don't own Gundam Wing. 

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Author's **Note**: This was written at 2:30 a.m. on January 1, 2002. What a way to bring in the New Year, ne? This is short and contains serious angst or perhaps just seriously disturbing themes. 

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Timeline: When Trowa infiltrates OZ and is placed under Lady Une's command.

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Pairings: NC 3x11, 3x4

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Quatre once tried to liken all the Gundam pilots to animals. Duo was said to be an alley cat, Wufei an obvious dragon, and Heero an eagle. We could never decide what kind. He told me I was a lion. I had smiled and chuckled, kissing his little cherub lips. He'd asked me to tell him what kind of an animal he was. I thought for a moment, then told him was a golden scarab. 

"I'm a bug?" he'd squeaked with indignation.

"A very precious and beautiful bug," I'd assured him.

"Wait…I thought scarabs ate human flesh," he'd said.

"Well you can nibble on me whenever you feel like it," I'd replied.

"Trowa Barton!" he'd cried. Then he'd smacked my butt and kissed me. After that…things are one blissfully blurred memory. I remember waking up in a tangle of sheets and Quatre.

I wish he were here now. I don't feel like a lion. I never really have. Despite Quatre's views, I am forever a chameleon. I stick to the walls and conform to whatever image I need to in order to survive. I am not responsible for a family, only myself. I do not roar of my mightiness. 

I have no mightiness. If I once possessed it, she has most definitely taken that away from me.

To tell the truth, I was surprised by her actions. She was so forward and powerful. Usually it's the men I end up fighting off, not the women. Christ, I sound like Maxwell. He fashions himself the eternal playboy. I don't think playboys matter here. For some reason the army likes the young ones, good-looking or not.

But this woman, this "Lady," is merely intrigued by Gundams. After I returned from destroying Deathscythe—I'm sorry Maxwell, I will make it up to you—she'd looked at me with awe and a hunger I'd never seen before. As I had quietly escaped to the showers I caught her eye and she'd smiled like a tigress before her prey. It made me shiver.

It's been three days since the first time she came to me. Right now I'm lying in my bed, awaiting the inevitable. She's come every night, so I know she'll be here soon. I'm just thankful she leaves quickly after its over. I don't want her to know of how I fall asleep with my face sparkling from tears of shame. They always said rape was the easiest way to break a person. I thought I was above it, I really thought I was. But I am no lion. I'm merely a chameleon who can't stand his own skin.

My body aches. For all the savoir-faire the title of Lady holds this woman has a barbaric side that would terrify even the stony Heero Yuy. She ties the ropes too tight and finds violence erotic. As a result I have ceased all of my acrobatics momentarily, finding walking painful enough. My wrists bleed constantly. Thank God the OZ uniform has large cuffs. If this keeps up I'm going to have some serious problems piloting.

She says I remind her of Treize. I have his grace, she says, his elegance. I wonder at this. The bloody Colonel is elegant? I hope I do not possess that kind of elegance.

Yesterday she slipped rose-scented bath salts in my pocket and told me to use them tonight. I sold them to a soldier to eat with his packet of razors. He said something about a failed mission, but I wasn't listening.

Sometimes a chameleon must ignore his surroundings in order to blend in with them.

I miss Quatre.

I close my eyes, my subconscious mind slipping off to a better world. I hear the door open and her footsteps coming towards me. After she pats down my "sleeping" body she'll kick me awake and order me to undress her. Remember to leave her boots on.

I wish I were a lion.

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End file.
